


The Blessing of Anteros

by softestpunk



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Barnabas being Alexios' cool uncle, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, oh my gosh the fluff, spoilers for the Olympics questline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 22:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17589539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/softestpunk
Summary: After the events surrounding the Olympics, Alexios and Alkibiades rest, recover, and reflect on what they mean to each other in the light of everything that happened.





	The Blessing of Anteros

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I've written two non-smut fics for these two I swear to Eros there'll be smut in the next one

“I didn't expect you to come and watch,” Alexios said as he approached a still too-pale Alkibiades, ignoring the rest of the onlooking crowd.

The rush of being named champion had been fun--rarely did Alexios have his achievements publicly celebrated--but the worry over Alkibiades hadn't left the back of his mind the entire time.

“And miss my friend becoming an Olympic champion?” Alkibiades asked, eyebrow raised. “How could I stay away?”

“Friend,” Alexios repeated.

Alkibiades looked at him, apparently as confused as Alexios felt.

“Not favourite misthios?” Alexios prodded.

Alkibiades blinked.

“You saved my life,” he said. “And you did it without a moment's pause or a single thought for yourself. I'm afraid you have my friendship whether you want it or not.”

“I do. Want it,” Alexios said, stunned.

He could hardly believe what he was hearing, but he did, desperately, want to think of himself as Alkibiades’ friend.

“You know,” Alkibiades said, rising slowly and wobbling ominously once he was upright. “You may be the only person who's ever wanted it for its own sake.”

Alexios shuffled closer, subtly giving him the opportunity to lean on him if he needed it.

The antidote had worked, in the sense that Alkibiades didn't seem to be in immediate danger of death, but he was clearly still unwell.

He couldn't help but feel that everyone involved had died too easily. The merchant, the polemarch, the cultist.

The cult was determined to hurt him, and they'd almost found another way.

Alexios pushed the thought aside as Alkibiades gripped his arm, steadying himself. They had _tried,_ but they had not succeeded.

“You need to rest,” Alexios said.

“I do,” Alkibiades agreed. “My head is spinning and my stomach is still killing me.”

“I'll take you to your room.”

“And stay with me?” he asked. “I've never taken an Olympic champion to bed before.”

“I thought--”

“What I let you think, I know. But I was only teasing.”

“What happened to your wife?”

“Divorce,” Alkibiades said. “How unfortunate for her to be caught committing adultery. Especially when she could have had me!”

“You set her up,” Alexios said, but he couldn't quite summon the amount of judgement he felt he should have. She'd been playing a dangerous game, trying to fool Alkibiades.

“It wasn't easy,” Alkibiades said. “I haven't had anyone in months. I couldn't afford to get caught first, could I?”

Alexios snorted. That _did_ seem like it would have taken some effort for him.

“You will stay with me, won't you?” Alkibiades repeated, and this time, Alexios heard the fear in his voice. He was exhausted, and still sick, and in shock over nearly dying, Alexios thought.

He just wanted someone he trusted nearby.

“I will stay with you,” Alexios agreed.

_I will kill anyone who tries to harm you_ , he didn't add.

The cult had taken people from him already. They would take no more.

Alkibiades finally managed to give useful directions to his room, and collapsed onto the bed the moment Alexios stopped supporting him. He groaned unhappily, but wriggled out of his clothes, tossing them aside and curling up with his back to the wall.

Alexios hadn't had the chance to change back into his armour--which was in Barnabas’ capable care--and so all he needed to do was climb onto the bed beside Alkibiades.

“You smell wonderful,” Alkibiades said, his eyes closed, but a smile spread across his lips. “Give me a minute and I'll give you a reward fitting for a champion.”

“You will rest,” Alexios said. “Besides, I got the wreath. That's what I came for.”

“You were struck with the urge to bring glory to your country?”

“Sparta is not my country,” Alexios said. “I found my mother.”

Alkibiades’ eyes opened instantly.

“And my father,” Alexios added. “My… well, the man who sired me.”

“This does not sound like a happy story,” Alkibiades said. “Just as well that you should tell it in bed.”

Alexios swallowed. Alkibiades was volunteering to listen.

A man who carefully cultivated the image of caring about no one but himself was ready and willing to listen to the woes of a common misthios.

Before Alexios could begin, Alkibiades laid a hand on his chest. For a moment, Alexios thought he might say something, but he remained silent even after a handful of heartbeats.

Waiting for Alexios to begin.

“My mother was ruling on Naxos,” Alexios began. “Which wouldn't be a surprise if you knew her.”

“I know you,” Alkibiades said. “And it is no surprise. You could rule, if you wanted.”

“Have I ever told you I am the grandchild of Leonidas?” Alexios asked, fully knowing the answer. He hadn't.

“I'm not surprised,” Alkibiades responded. “There _is_ something about you. Something… wondrous,” he concluded, eyes falling closed again as he winced in pain.

“Did you say your stomach still hurt?” Alexios asked.

“It's not too bad. I've had worse hangovers.”

“Roll over,” Alexios said.

Alkibiades laughed delightedly. “I thought you'd never ask,” he said, obeying immediately. “You'll have to do most of the work, but…”

“Do you ever think of anything other than sex?” Alexios asked, pulling Alkibiades closer and laying a hand over his belly, rubbing slow, wide circles over it.

Alkibiades sighed in his arms, and Alexios felt some of the tension he'd been carrying ease out of him. He'd been scared, too.

Scared of losing this man. Scared of never having the chance to do this, or any one of a thousand other things.

“Wine,” Alkibiades said.

Alexios snorted. He knew that Alkibiades had a keen mind, and that he was _always_ thinking. Always scheming.

He was brilliantly clever in all things, and it was a marvel to behold.

“The rest of the story is hard to believe,” Alexios said.

“Try me.”

Snorting, Alexios nuzzled his way past Alkibiades’ hair to press a kiss to the back of his neck. He wasn't sure Alkibiades would have allowed this kind of intimacy if he didn't feel unwell. _This_ , he would take advantage of, for fear of never getting the chance again.

“I met Pythagoras--my birth father--inside Atlantis. Which was built by a race of people who came before us. Not gods, but not _men_ , either, I think. There is a voice there who explains some things, but it's like… it's like reading a letter. It's not like talking to a person. I can't explain everything I've seen.”

Alkibiades laughed again, which seemed like a good sign for the state of his health.

“This is the truth,” Alexios said, though he didn't expect anyone--other than Barnabas and Herodotus--to believe him.

“I know,” Alkibiades said seriously. “I know by the way you say it. It's just…”

“Just what?”

“I knew you were someone special the first moment I saw you. It's why I wanted you so badly.”

“Oh.”

Swallowing, Alexios paused to consider that. Alkibiades thought he was special.

A warm bubble of joy welled up in his chest. Coming from a man like him, that meant a great deal.

“Thank you for believing me,” he said after a few moments.

“We don't lie to each other anymore,” Alkibiades said, and it sounded like a promise.

“Okay,” Alexios agreed.

Alkibiades made a soft, pleased noise, and a moment later, he was asleep.

***

For a moment, as he woke, Alkibiades panicked to feel strong arms wrapped around him in a strange bed.

The initial panic faded as he remembered Alexios, and his chest clenched at the knowledge that he was still here.

No one ever stayed with him. Mostly, in fairness, because he politely kicked them out. Sharing space like this was an intimacy that Alkibiades could seldom tolerate.

Alexios was different.

And now he knew just _how_ different, and it had done nothing to change his feelings except in that they seemed wholly justified.

Alexios _was_ someone special, not just to Alkibiades, but objectively.

And now he was an Olympic champion.

Which also made him a suitable lover. Socially suitable. Someone he could be seen with, someone he could insist be shown the same respect afforded himself.

The thought made his belly clench. Oh, how he would have _adored_ that. To keep Alexios by his side, to take him to bed like this night after night.

But Alexios had been alarmed enough at being called a friend. Lover would not be a title he accepted lightly.

Nor should it have been. A lover as capable and desirable as Alexios was right to withhold their gifts until properly wooed.

Thankfully, he seemed unlikely to withhold sex in the meantime, and perhaps, if Alkibiades allowed his weakness to show, he could have this newfound affection, too.

He _was_ still unwell. He could feel the weakness in him, an exhaustion that took hold of body and mind.

He had promised not to lie to Alexios, and he would not. If that happened to come with a benefit or two, well… honesty was the best policy, after all.

After a long few moments, Alkibiades decided to risk linking his fingers with Alexios’, his hand still splayed protectively over Alkibiades’ belly, and let his eyes fall closed again.

***

“Should you allow yourself to be seen with a Spartan?” Alexios asked as Alkibiades clung to his arm in broad daylight, having insisted that a walk and fresh air would do him good.

It probably _would_ , and he did seem better and brighter than he had. Alexios knew, though, that he was a man accustomed to hiding his pain.

They had that in common.

They had a _lot_ in common, once you looked past the surface.

“Of course!” Alkibiades enthused, leaning a little more heavily against Alexios. “This is the height of diplomacy, one of Athens’ golden sons so close to Sparta's most promising champion.”

He paused a moment, and then quietly added, “and you are not a Spartan by any measure other than birth.”

That last part would make no difference to any onlookers. Alexios had taken home a wreath for Sparta, so he was a Spartan.

Except in Alkibiades’ eyes.

Alkibiades was one of a very small number of people who saw him for who he was. His own parents included.

Everyone else had simply _decided_ what he was to them. Misthios. Hero. Loyal son. Tool.

To Alkibiades, he was a _friend_.

The thought still made his head spin.

“You're so pretty when you're thinking deep thoughts,” Alkibiades said. “So much prettier, I should say.”

“Such a generous compliment coming from you.” Alexios smiled. “I was thinking…”

_We don't lie to each other anymore_.

Alkibiades had promised, and Alexios had agreed. He would not lie.

“I was thinking how glad I am that you're alive,” he said, which was the heart of his thoughts. He wanted Alkibiades alive.

“You're so sweet,” Alkibiades said. “I won't forget about what you did for me. There are rewards coming to you that would make Aphrodite blush.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I wouldn’t have let you die.”

“Many would have,” Alkibiades said. “And more still would not have been clever enough to do anything about it.”

“I’m not sure clever is the right word.”

“I’m sure it is.” Alkibiades paused in front of a bench, considered it a moment, and then tugged on Alexios’ arm to sit with him.

If Alkibiades needed to rest, Alexios wasn’t going to argue. Especially not when the other man’s head fell on his shoulder, still clinging to Alexios’ arm.

“I will ask you how many people you killed to save me,” Alkibiades said. “But accept silence as an answer.”

“Why do you want to know?” Alexios asked, unsure he should say. Unsure that Alkibiades would appreciate the response, unsure that he would be comfortable knowing the cost of his own life.

“I’m not sure,” Alkibiades said, and Alexios knew it was the truth. The question had occurred to him, but his reasons for it were not clear, even to himself.

“To save you? None. I only collected an antidote from a fort. There was no cost to saving you.” Alexios paused. “The number is different if the question is _for hurting you_.”

“How many?” Alkibiades repeated, his voice soft.

“The merchant who did it, the cultist who planned it, and the polemarch guarding the antidote. The cultist, I would always have killed. The others…”

“Were for me,” Alkibiades finished for him.

“I don’t have so many friends that I can afford to lose one,” Alexios explained, suddenly self-conscious. Perhaps Alkibiades wouldn’t appreciate the knowledge that he meant this much to Alexios, that Alexios would kill on his behalf--not for drachmae or some political scheme, but simply because he had been upset. Angry. Furious that Alkibiades had been _caught up_ in someone else’s plot, through no fault of his own for once.

A hand on his cheek silenced his racing mind for a moment, Alkibiades’ soft, delicate fingers brushing the stubble there, turning his face toward him. The first brush of his lips tingled against Alexios’, tentative and uncertain. They didn’t do this, not unless they were just about to tear each other’s clothes off.

Alexios had realised belatedly that Alkibiades didn’t do this at _all_ , not with other people. He’d made the mistake the first time, pulled him in for a kiss before noticing everyone else staring, but Alkibiades had allowed it, and continued to allow it. It _meant_ something, though Alexios was not brave enough to decide what.

But this was newer still, and Alexios’ heart raced as Alkibiades broke off, brushing his nose against Alexios’ one more time before resuming his position leaning against his side.

“Thank you,” Alkibiades said a moment later. “I don’t have so many friends, either.”

For a moment that sounded ridiculous--Alkibiades was surrounded by followers and admirers. But then, those weren’t _friends_.

They had each other. Maybe they didn’t need so many more than that.

“People are staring,” Alexios pointed out.

“At you, no doubt,” Alkibiades said, his tone lilting up in amusement. “They’ve all seen you naked. I’m surprised you bothered to spend the night with me when I have so much competition now.”

“I was tired,” Alexios said, and it was true, but he still felt a twinge of guilt at the lie of omission.

What he meant was, _I wanted to_.

“I _am_ tired,” Alkibiades admitted. “But I would not give up your company so soon.”

Alexios hummed, and then remembered a place he’d spotted while he and Barnabas had been looking around. “Walk for five minutes and you can lie down for an hour,” he offered.

“With you?” he asked, and perhaps Alexios was imagining the note of shyness in his voice.

“With me. I could take a nap.”

“Then I will walk as far as you need me to.”

***

Alkibiades grinned ear to ear at the spot his beautiful, sweet, kind Alexios had taken them to. A secluded, quiet place under a shade cloth, next to gardens bursting with flowers, and far enough away from the altar of Zeus to save him from the smell. Today was a very bad day to be vaguely nauseous in the Valley of Olympia, but here, resting his weight against Alexios’ chest, Alkibiades was content.

“I will fall asleep like this if you let me,” Alkibiades said, tilting his head up to look at Alexios.

“I’ll watch over you,” Alexios promised solemnly. “I was thinking… I could take you back to Athens, if that’s where you’re going. It’s more or less on the way to places I need to be next.”

Alkibiades chuckled. “You’re too kind to me, but I will accept. I like Barnabas.”

“Against all odds, I think he likes you, too,” Alexios said. “Probably because you don’t make a face when he talks about the will of the gods this, the will of the gods that.”

This time, Alkibiades dissolved into giggles, despite the fact that laughter made his stomach hurt all over again. “He is a man who has retained his wonder despite everything he’s seen. And he believes in you. He believes you might be a demigod.”

Alexios snorted. “You’d be surprised how often I hear that. Or that I was sent by the gods, or oh, the _gods_ must have had a hand in… whatever I just did all by myself.”

Alkibiades hummed. Though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself, it would not have shocked him to learn that there was something divine about Alexios. He was gifted in so many ways that it was hard to believe a man like him could just _happen_ , by chance.

And yet he knew the idea upset him, and even understood why, and so he kept that particular thought to himself.

“I believe that there are things I do not understand. And I don’t think all of them come from the gods, but… maybe some of them do.”

Alexios sighed. “I’m going to suffer through this trip.”

“I’ll make it up to you in other ways,” Alkibiades promised. He would not be weak forever. Already, his head was clearing and his strength returning, and he suspected he had Alexios to thank.

He smiled at the thought that the sweat of an Olympic champion was supposed to have healing properties. One or two ways of working one up came to mind.

“You know you don’t have to,” Alexios said. “Don’t you? That we’d still be friends even if we never had sex again?”

Alkibiades blinked at him, and he was suddenly unsure how to respond. Some part of him had known that, but he’d never heard the words aloud before. What else did he have to offer but his beauty? His body?

“What would the fun in that be?” he said after a moment. Because he _did_ want Alexios. He _wanted_ Alexios, the way he wanted Socrates, because they were better than him. Because he didn’t deserve them.

Alexios wasn’t just beautiful and willing--he was gentle, and thoughtful, and kind. A wonderful, generous partner who was unafraid to show his pleasure. A man anyone would be lucky to have.

Alkibiades remembered his promise to himself from last night. In his half-awake haze, he had desperately wanted to call Alexios his lover.

He still wanted it in the light of day. Perhaps more now than he had then.

But it wasn’t about sex. Not _only_ about sex, in any case, and the relief that Alexios felt the same way was overwhelming.

Alexios smiled warmly at him, tilting his chin up for another soft kiss like the one they’d shared before, the one that had made Alkibiades’ stomach clench painfully and his heart beat so hard against his ribcage that he’d been afraid it might burst through.

This was all new to him, and he no longer knew what to do. How to react. What he could say or how he could touch to make himself clear without risking everything they already had.

He watched silently as a beautiful blue butterfly fluttered over and landed gently on the tip of Alexios’ nose.

A sign, perhaps. Or at least, an opportunity to say what he meant without having to _say_ it.

“Do you think it’s a blessing from Anteros?” he teased, wanting to believe in his own heart that it was, that it meant what he so desperately wanted it to, that he was not alone.

“Who?” Alexios asked, looking cross-eyed at the butterfly, but making no attempt to bat it away. Jaded as he liked to seem, there was still wonder in him, too.

“Ask Barnabas,” Alkibiades said, glad that Alexios had not caught his meaning. “I suppose you missed that part of your education.”

“Forgive me for not having had the benefit of personal tutors and the friendship of intellectual giants,” Alexios said as the butterfly flitted away, investigating Alkibiades’ hair for a brief moment before heading back to the garden.

“Oh, Socrates adores you,” Alkibiades said. “If I ever want to get him into bed, you’re my only hope.”

Alexios smiled wryly. “There _are_ limits to what I’d do for you,” he said.

“We’ll see.” Alkibiades yawned. “I think I’ll take that nap now.”

“Good,” Alexios murmured, brushing his lips against Alkibiades’ forehead. “We’ll set sail later.”

***

With his wreath safely stowed away and the ship well and truly headed toward the next port, Alexios sat down beside Barnabas, glancing over at the nest of blankets and pillows that Alkibiades was buried somewhere under.

He was glad the other man had taken up his offer of a personal escort back to Athens. The chance to watch over him while he was still weak soothed the last of Alexios’ nerves. For a moment, when he’d thought he was going to lose Alkibiades, it had been as though Apollo had snatched the sun from the sky.

Which was too much to feel for him, and more than Alexios could ever confess.

He would take what he could get, and be happy with it.

“When I threw my lot in with you, I wasn’t expecting it to be quite like this,” Barnabas said, gesturing toward the lights of the port and the sleeping figure of Alkibiades. “Olympic championship, conspiracies, Athenian nobility napping on the deck…”

“Be thankful he’s napping,” Alexios said. “He’s a handful when he’s awake.”

“More than one handful, I hear.”

Alexios turned to stare at Barnabas. Was he… was that a joke about…?

“What? You think I don’t listen? You think I don’t _see_ out of my one good eye?” Barnabas smiled kindly. “I saw the look on your face when you thought he was going to die. Nearly broke my heart in two. Besides, I like him.”

“I can’t pretend I’m not surprised,” Alexios said, not in the mood to argue with Barnabas’ assessment. He wasn’t wrong, and there was no point in pretending otherwise. “But I suppose you have your reasons.”

“A friend of Alexios is a friend of Barnabas,” he said. “Besides, he’s smart. Smarter than he wants people to know. And he hides such pain under that ridiculous exomie.”

Alexios snorted. Again, he couldn’t argue with any of that.

Which reminded him of what Alkibiades had said earlier.

“Who is Anteros?” Alexios asked, since Alkibiades had been so sure Barnabas would know the answer.

Barnabas raised an eyebrow. “Anteros the god? He’s the brother of Eros, son of Ares and Aphrodite, with the wings of a butterfly.”

Ah. That explained the butterfly, then.

There was a pause while Barnabas glanced over at Alkibiades again. “Where Eros and Aphrodite are gods of beauty, attraction, and sexual love, Anteros is the god of love returned. Mutual love, the love between man and wife, between… well, _lovers_. He is the god of being _in_ love. Some would say he’s the god of the friendship between lovers.”

Alexios swallowed.

But Alkibiades couldn’t have meant… could he?

The warmth of Barnabas’ smile made Alexios blush, his cheeks hot even in the cool breeze rushing over the deck. “Go to him,” Barnabas advised. “Take your chance while you still have it.”

Nodding, Alexios rose from the bench and crossed to where Alkibiades was curled up, crouching down next to him. He paused, unsure what he might do or say, how he might _accept_ such a gift.

He reached out, brushing Alkibiades’ pale golden curls away from his face, tucking them behind his ear. His heart stirred in his chest as Alkibiades sighed, leaning into his touch, a smile spreading over his face.

“Alexios?” he murmured, eyes blinking open, weariness still clinging to him.

“I think it was a blessing from Anteros,” he said, knowing Alkibiades would understand.

Alkibiades’ face lit up, his smile broadening until it seemed to take up the whole of his face. The brightest, most genuine smile Alexios had ever seen on him.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Alkibiades murmured, shuffling over to give Alexios space to curl up beside him. After a few moments of arranging their bodies together, Alexios lay with Alkibiades’ head tucked under his chin, the scent of his hair in his nose, and a smile in his heart. This was something he would defend against all comers. Something worth keeping.

Perhaps, just this once, the gods _had_ been interfering, after all.


End file.
